Something Worth Being Thankful For
by Catlover
Summary: Just a little look into Oliver and Kyle's lives as they celebrate the holidays.


**Something Worth Being Thankful For**

All four burners on the stove crackled with life. The oven radiated warmth. Platters and bowls waited patiently on the counter. In the dining room, the table was elegantly set for eight people. All these little touches lent an aura of peace. They added a hint of calm in a space so utterly filled with chaos.

Throughout the house, shrieks of laughter exploded. A rampage of thunderous little feet wound up the stairs and down again, out the back door and back in again. The kitchen filled to bursting with people dicing almonds for the stuffing, mashing the potatoes cooking on the stovetop and sweeping the floor clean of the odds and ends of a meal almost prepared. Suddenly, a bell added to the insanity. Answering the call, a pair of hands slapped the alarm off while grabbing a set of potholders.

"The turkey's ready," announced Oliver as he turned off the oven and opened the door.

Stopping his broom in mid-swing, Kyle leaned toward the oven and inhaled deeply. "It smells great."

"My Mother's recipe never fails," said Cris over his shoulder as he continued to chop almonds.

From the doorway, a lovely Spanish accent called. "Did someone mention my recipe?"

"Sure did, Carlotta," answered Layla as she rested her arm for a moment. "How are the kids?"

"Oh fine. They're running and playing. Hopefully, they'll sit still once we're eating."

"Not much hope of that," echoed the quartet.

"Oh well, it'll be good either way," sighed Carlotta. Watching as Oliver placed the roasting pan on a large trivet, she asked, "How much longer?"

All at once, they looked at each other and shrugged. Turning to his mother, Cris estimated, "At least another half hour, Ma. The turkey needs to rest."

"That's fine. It gives me just enough time to get these little mocosos looking presentable."

"Good luck with that," replied Layla as she turned back to the mashed potatoes. Pounding forcefully, Layla allowed her mind to wander. She recalled the first Thanksgiving they all shared. Crammed around that tiny kitchen table, a lack of space forced them to place all the food on the coffee table and serve themselves buffet style. God… Had it really been eleven years?

"Hey, are you okay?"

"What?" Startled into stillness, Layla looked over her shoulder. Finding Kyle looking at her with concern, she smiled. "Sure why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know maybe because you're beating those potatoes like they committed some great wrong against you in a past life."

Looking back and forth from the potatoes to Kyle, Layla laughed nervously. "I'm fine. Just got caught up in memories."

Placing a gentle hand on the large swell of her stomach, Kyle whispered, "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Do you maybe need to sit down? Put your feet up?"

"Doctor Lewis," barked Layla as she swatted his hand away from her stomach. "This baby may belong to you and Oliver once she's born, but for right now, what I say goes and what I say is that I'm finishing these potatoes. Now, hand me the butter and rosemary."

"Excuse me. Whatever you say, your highness."

"God, do not get her riled up, Kyle. This is the fourth pregnancy I've been through with this woman and if you make her mad and I end up paying for it… Let's just say – You're going to pay, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Come on guys, let's play nice on Thanksgiving," implored Oliver. Turning away from the turkey, he inched over to the refrigerator. Quickly, he retrieved the butter. Leaning to the right he grabbed the bottle of rosemary off the spice rack. Without a word, he handed them to Layla before picking up a spoon. Keeping his back to the group, he listened to the conversation as he stirred the rice and visually checked the vegetable medley.

"You should take some notes, Kyle. At least, your husband knows how to treat a pregnant woman."

"Here we go," sighed Cris as he threw up his hands. "I'm getting you for this, Kyle."

"What did I do? All I did was show some concern."

"Kyle…"

"Oliver…" replied Kyle. Pulling over the dust pan, he swept away the dirt from the floor. He jerked a little when he felt a pair of arms stretch across his chest, circling his torso.

"I'm sorry," whispered Layla as she placed her head on his shoulder. "Let's blame it on the hormones, okay?"

"Okay. Sure." He rubbed her arm as he reiterated his concern. "Are you sure you're okay? We can finish up in here. We'll be fine."

"No, I want to help."

"You do look a little tired, hon. Come here." Taking her by the arm, Cris walked her over to the breakfast nook. Pulling out a chair, he waited until, with a huff, she sat down. "Now, stay there while we finish."

With a mock salute, she dismissed Cris. Leaning back, Layla silently admitted to herself that her feet were killing her. Rubbing her stomach, she smiled contentedly as she thought back to a decade old Thanksgiving. She'd been two months pregnant with her first child on that day. She recalled the nausea she fought off the whole time they cooked in the kitchen of the Buenas Dias Café. She felt a tremor run through her as she remembered how frightened she was back then to give Cristian the news. Smiling wistfully, she watched her stomach dance as she thought of Kyle and Oliver, bringing to mind how they watched open-mouthed as she told Cris about the baby just as the turkey was placed on the table.

Brushing the memories away, she stood up and announced, "I'm going to help Carlotta get the kids ready."

Before anyone could object, she walked away.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder just in time to watch her leave. With a deep sigh, he picked up the butter. Dumping a chunk in the steaming pot, he closed his eyes as he stirred. Immediately, memories assaulted him. As he slowly sprinkled rosemary, his mind drifted back ten years. He could clearly see the shocked expression Cris wore when Layla blurted out that she was pregnant. He could also plainly see the next Thanksgiving when Carlotta happily spent the whole meal feeding her little grandson his bottle and holding him while he slept.

Quickly, his thoughts traveled from year to year. The fifth Thanksgiving that was spent in the maternity ward welcoming Cris and Layla's second child. Then, the sixth year when they all just sat around, kicking back beers after putting both kids to bed. He remembered so clearly how that was the night they first discussed his and Kyle's desire to start a family and the many roadblocks they faced. Smiling, Oliver recalled how they called later that night and offered to have Layla be their surrogate. Now, awaiting the birth of their second child, Oliver could only bite his lip as he listened to the words being exchanged behind him.

"Why do you always have to start, Kyle? Now look, she's upset. She'll probably tell my mother all about this. Thanks a lot. That was a smack upside the head I really didn't need today."

"Excuse me for caring."

"Listen, Kyle, she's my wife. If someone's going to take care of her, it'll be me. So just back off."

"Yeah, well, that's my baby she's carrying and I'll remind you that she's been having premature labor for the last month and its still six weeks before she's due."

"Will you both just shut up?" Carrying the pot of mashed potatoes, Oliver crossed over to the waiting counter of bowls. As he emptied the potatoes into one of the bowls he stated, "I think the vegetables and the rice are done."

Jumping up, Kyle and Cris each grabbed a pan. Standing on either side of Oliver, they quietly filled bowls. Stepping back from the counter, Oliver slowly rinsed his pot out in the sink. After turning off the water, he towel dried his hands as he spoke, "Cris?"

Placing his pot in the sink, Cris nodded before he left the room. Carefully, Oliver placed lids on the bowls. Then slowly, he walked over to Kyle. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

With a sigh, Kyle ran a hand through his hair. "There's nothing wrong, Oliver. It's just so much has happened this time. Up until now, every pregnancy went off without a hitch. The tests always came back normal. They were practically text book. Even being a surrogate didn't affect that. I mean even with Rachel she went into labor the day she was due. But this time… This time, we thought she was going to miscarry because she spotted during her entire first trimester. Then, in her second trimester, she was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Now, she's been experiencing premature labor. The worst part though is I know she's not telling us everything."

"What do you mean?"

"The last trip to labor & delivery - There is no way those contractions were Braxton-Hicks like she said they were."

"How do you know this?"

"I saw the monitor readout."

"What?"

"I had to know, Oliver."

"God, Kyle. Do you honestly think Layla would do anything to hurt our child?"

Instantly, Kyle's thoughts drew back to that Thanksgiving dinner four years ago when Layla walked over to him and Oliver and handed them a small square box. The joy in her eyes, the shimmering tears that threatened to fall as they opened the box to reveal a positive pregnancy test still burned brightly in his memory. Looking up, Kyle found himself pulled back to the present by the question in Oliver's eyes. With a shake of his head, he whispered, "No, of course not."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps from the hallway.

"So where are those bowls you said you needed help carrying?" Stopping in her tracks, Layla met Kyle's eyes. Instantly, Cris and Oliver grabbed the serving bowls off the counter.

"We can take care of the bowls," they announced as they hurried from the room.

Folding their arms over their chests, Layla and Kyle watched their husbands flee the room. Once they were alone, Layla commented, "Those two are diabolical."

"There are times I think they're telepathically linked."

"That would make a lot of sense seeing as how they've been conspiring against us from the beginning."

"This is true."

Smiling, they glanced at each other. With a quiet chuckle, they let their hands fall to their sides as they shuffled closer to each other. Reaching out, she gently took his hand. "Kyle, you have to know I would never do anything to hurt this baby."

Squeezing her hand, he replied, "I know that. I do. You've done so much for us already. We don't know how to thank you and Cris enough. I mean, we wouldn't have Rachel or this little one without you."

"Then what is it?"

"Ever since we rushed you to the hospital last month, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's driving me crazy. I brace myself every time I see you overexerting yourself. I'm-"

"Worried. You're a parent. It's comes with the job."

"Does it ever."

"I don't want to be the cause of any worry for you. Lord knows, our children give us more than enough as it is. If it'll make you feel better, I'll let you spoil me. I'll take it easy, easier anyway. Really, I will."

"Thank you," whispered Kyle as he drew Layla into a hug. As they pulled apart, they noticed movement coming from the doorway. Upon closer inspection, they discovered a white handkerchief tied to a No. 2 pencil, swinging back and forth. Suppressing their laughter, they watched as Oliver and Cris' heads appeared.

"Is it safe?"

Glancing at each other, Layla and Kyle smiled before walking over to their husbands. Placing her hands on Cris' cheeks, Layla pulled him down into a slow kiss. Likewise, Kyle pulled Oliver over, kissing him quickly on the lips. Together, they left the kitchen and entered the dining room.

Four table settings were spread out on either side of a long rectangular table. In the corner seat nearest the door sat Carlotta. Across from her, the two middle seats were filled by the squirming Vega children – Marco and Taylor. Cristian watched as his children took turns elbowing each other while exchanging teasing looks. Smiling though he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't help but marvel at how big they were. At eight and six respectively, they were so removed from the babies he remembered. With a sigh, he helped Layla sit down next to the daughter who looked so much like her. With a rustle of Marco's curly blond hair, Cris made his way to his own seat, directly across from Carlotta.

At the same time, a wriggling mass of little girl managed to break free from Carlotta's grasp. Rolling off the chair and managing somehow to land on both feet, she took off at full speed. "Daddy! Papa!"

Crouching down, Kyle spread out his arms. Rachel crashed into him with such force that he nearly tumbled over. Regaining his balance, he picked her up, bouncing her slightly as he walked over to the three seats next to Carlotta. As he reached the table, she placed her small hands on his cheeks and asked, "Can we eat now, Papa? Can we?"

"Sure, but you've got to sit down first."

Seated in the center chair, she bounced with barely contained energy. Exchanging a smile over her head, Kyle and Oliver sat on either side of her. Getting up on her knees, she turned to her right. Leaning on a strong forearm, she flashed a pair of puppy dog eyes as she whispered, "I'm hungry, Daddy. I really am."

Laughing out loud, Oliver pulled his daughter into a hug. "You have got to start watching something other than 101 Dalmatians, little girl."

"But I like that one."

All the adults broke out in laughter at the sight of her pouty lower lip. Confused, she stared across the table at her Uncle Cris and Aunt Layla before glancing over at Nana Vega. Finally, she looked back and forth from her Daddy to her Papa. Not quickly enough, the laughter started to subside. Impatient, Rachel crossed her arms and growled, "Stop. I don't like it."

For some reason, the angry look on her face caused another wave of laughter to fill the room. At the sight of his daughter's furrowed brow, Kyle stopped laughing. Gently, he pulled her over into a hug. His actions soon silenced the laughter within the room. Placing his daughter back in her booster seat, he brushed away stray hairs from her face. "So what do you want to eat first?"

"I want turkey and rice and potato and… and bread. Yeah, yeah, I want bread."

"I'll see what I can do," answered Kyle as he looked just past her. Slyly, he winked at Oliver before being drawn back down by a tiny hand patting on his arm. "Time to hold hands now, Papa."

Quickly, everyone held hands. Cris stretched across the table to reach Carlotta. Kyle did the same for Layla. As fingers intertwined, everyone bowed their heads. For a couple seconds, they considered all for which they were thankful. A pulse beat through their clinched hands. The sound of even breathing filled the air. A moment of perfect calm was born. As eyes opened, they looked upon their reasons to be thankful – Friendship, Fidelity and Family. Then, now and for years to come, it would always be something worth being thankful for.


End file.
